


All the while, believe me, I prayed our night would last twice as long

by Beezarre (Dibee)



Category: Holby City
Genre: F/F, and some skin on skin as well, feels metaphors love and cuteness, m-rated smut to end Berena Appreciation Week softly, two ladies and (finally) only one bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-29 16:16:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15732978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dibee/pseuds/Beezarre
Summary: The morning after the break-up before. How intensely they love, how sweetly and passionately, and what brought them to the familiar paths so well travelled they can now come home to together.





	All the while, believe me, I prayed our night would last twice as long

**Author's Note:**

> This is what happens when I set out to write a ‘short’ vaguely smutty thing… There are feels, metaphors, love, and cuteness.
> 
> Thank you to DaisyDoctor13, again, for everything!!!
> 
> Written for Berena Appreciation Week, day 7: Smut
> 
> Title is a quote by Sappho

The night had been young, but they weren’t. For all they were ‘happy’ to meet again, they were also both exhausted, and, for the first time in months, had been able to revel in the possibility of falling asleep in each other’s arms, a luxury.

 

Bernie had been the first to wake, trying her best not to disturb Serena who was clinging to her even in sleep. To think she had almost lost her… She gently stroke her back, right along her spine, and felt her stir. She heard her mumble something and just hang on a little tighter.

 

While Bernie was able to operate on very little sleep, Serena needed more, and she had found a particularly comfortable pillow she was unwilling to let go of. Bernie let her fingers trace the well known line progressively lower and felt Serena shift, impossibly closer still, but rousing. Her hair was a mess, and Bernie was sure hers was no better, especially given how much Serena liked to play with it. Who needs a comb when you can have your lover’s fingers carding through your hair at every opportunity…

 

“Hello, sleepyhead.” Bernie’s voice was low, and as Serena looked up she could see how dark her eyes were.

 

“You’ll be the death of me.” Serena’s voice was still broken by sleep, and something in it made Bernie shiver expectantly. “I take it you’re interested in breakfast.” Bernie nodded coyly before licking her lips. Serena shook her head, a playful smile on her lips. “You’re impossible.” She whispered.

 

“And you love it.” Bernie breached what little space there still was between them to kiss her.

 

Being able to be like this, to hold her, close, was something she had missed every single day. It wasn’t so much a craving as a deep need for her company, being able to so much as look at her, really look, tangle their fingers and make her laugh. God, she’d missed that. And then there was her body, at the tip of her fingers, skin on skin…

 

She wasn’t sure which part she liked best, how tangled their legs were that a move from either of them could have them both moaning, or being able to feel her heartbeat so close to hers, her gentle breathing against her neck, the occasional nip of her teeth on her ear.

 

“Serena?”

 

“Hm?”

 

Bernie didn’t elaborate, choosing to kiss along her neck to that one spot she knew made Serena melt in her arms even more. She let out a small sigh, relief, too. It had been so long it felt like rediscovering each other, meaning they had to explore again. As thoroughly as they could, of course.

 

Bernie took advantage of Serena’s temporary distraction to snake a hand between them until her fingers tangled in the coarse hairs she’d been aiming for. Serena moved, enough to allow her better access. She mirrored Bernie’s movement, who forgot how to breathe as Serena kissed her again, teasingly slow this time, her fingers slowly starting to match the movement of her tongue. Bernie’s free hand was in the small of her back, tracing slow circles, Serena’s in Bernie’s hair.

 

“I have missed this.” Serena was practically purring. Bernie bit her lower lip before smiling mischievously.

 

“And how exactly have you coped?”

 

Serena kissed her, deep and long enough to make her forget her question, before licking along her jaw and whispering in her ear. “Shall I show you?”

 

There was promise in her eyes as she looked at Bernie again. Bernie let out a small whimper as Serena removed her hand and slowly moved away from her, lazily turning onto her back.

 

At the very beginning of their relationship she had felt self-conscious. Past 50, she wasn’t as confident with her body as she once had been, finding more and more reasons to add a layer there, a more flowy garment. She was, roughly, in good shape but… Well, Bernie was bloody gorgeous for starters, the woman was maddening, managed to look amazing in scrubs, could have worn a bin bag and made it look like couture!

 

Bernie, too, had been self-conscious, Serena had noticed, but god, she was a sight for sore eyes. She had her share of scars, of course, but if anything they made her more beautiful, more precious for all those wounds she had survived. Serena, however, while physically fit, had never had any particular interest for sport, not the kind most people recommend for fitness anyway. She had never shied away from sex, was comfortable with it, or at least had been, knowing perhaps what to expect from the male gaze.

 

But this… this had been new, and she had found herself questioning everything she had thought she had known about herself, discovering just how much her body could offer. The way Bernie looked at her… She couldn’t remember having felt this… beautiful with any man she had ever been with. There was caring and love laced with desire, a devotion that took her breath away. And devoted she was.

 

Just watching Bernie looking at made her breath shorten. Bernie loved her unconditionally, and Serena remembered a number of times she had cried in her arms, from sadness, from grief, but also joy, and pleasure. Having here there again, within reach, felt like a dream come true, and tracking Bernie’s eyes over her body made her shiver. She wanted Bernie, all of her, but she had always been a bit of a tease.

 

She wondered which of them would give in first, would she reach out to Bernie, or would Bernie offer to help. She wouldn’t stop her. Bernie’s fingers were good at more than surgery, and she wasn’t at ease with words, but god was she good with her tongue. Well, she was getting better with her words, maybe Serena had helped with that, in more ways than one.

 

Legs slightly apart, she let her hand travel down, watching Bernie lick her lips, and bit her lip when she realised just how wet she was. She’d be lying if she pretended it hadn’t been the case, even without Bernie physically beside her, even with just her voice on the phone, her face floating behind her eyelids. Most times, the problem wasn’t so much to find release as to make it last, and she knew she’d have trouble with that again, although Bernie was highly resourceful and highly unlikely to be satisfied with just the one.

 

She closed her eyes and licked her lips, she couldn’t hold back a small whimper, and as she opened her eyes again found Bernie much closer. This was torture, knowing her so close… But it had been her idea. She moaned when Bernie kissed her, losing track of anything but her tongue. Her lover didn’t take her time as she travelled down, her head soon framed by the thighs she admired so much.

 

“God, Bernie…” That was another thing. While she could be quiet, could being the operative word, she did like the liberty of being loud, or rather had, with men. Bernie, again, was different. It was as if she had become almost shy of her own pleasure, never letting out more than a whimper in the crook of her neck or grasping at the sheets to ground herself. And then, that one time, late one night, or possibly early one morning, surfing a wave that hadn’t waned, Bernie had pushed just a little farther, far enough for her to let go. The look in Bernie’s eyes had been enough to free Serena of her doubts.

 

Bernie herself was the quiet type, but Serena knew exactly how to loosen her tongue. She doubted she would ever tire of the way Bernie spoke her name when she came, how beautiful and offered she looked, how soft and tender she felt. She, in turn, no longer held back as she had at the start of her relationship. Bernie knew her body better than she knew it herself, and she relished every second Bernie spent making it sing.

 

Today was opera, delicate yet flamboyant waves of pleasure coursing through her veins, Bernie’s hair softer than any material she could have worn, her own chest heaving, her heart a drum beating ever faster, ever louder, her panting and moaning an orchestra conducted by the nimblest of fingers.

 

The maestro made her voice bloom as she came, still moaning as she caught her breath, Bernie observing her through her fringe, looking like the cat who got the cream. Well, more like the Wolfe who got the… did wolves even like cream?

 

Serena stretched, staring as Bernie kissed her way back up, slowly, lazily, promising more later.

 

“Now that’s a picture of breakfast I’ll keep to myself.” Bernie’s voice was deep, the only word that Serena could find to describe it was ‘delicious’.

 

Everything about Bernie was delicious, Serena had learned fairly earlier on, and she was famished. She would take her time though, she could afford it, and she knew how much Bernie liked being teased. Would she ever tire of rendering her big macho army medic boneless and content, dancing on the edge of an orgasm like a prima ballerina?

 

Serena was a gifted choreographer, and the ballet of the ripples of pleasure and soft moans would never cease to amaze her. She loved to take her time, knew Bernie loved it too, the finale always an emotional one.

 

Bernie, over time, had taken to keeping her eyes open, but they always fluttered close as she grasped the sheet, arched her back, and abandoned herself to Serena so completely it brought tears to her eyes.

Then there was the reverence, the way Bernie looked at her, the way she buried her face in the crook of her neck and breathed her in. She was often a little sleepy, looking adorable yet kissing her fiercely, like her life depended on it, her pulse dancing fast still.

 

How easy it was, after all this time, to make her gasp, grin softly as she saw the look on Serena’s face.

 

“Proud of yourself, Campbell?” Bernie’s voice was a mere whisper now, hitched halfway through the name when Serena splayed her fingers just a little bit more.

 

“Proud of you, darling.” Bernie was almost purring, slowly tangling her fingers in Serena’s hair.

 

Bernie wasn’t the kind to leave marks, a couple bite marks on occasion, but nothing more. Serena however had left her mark on her lover more than once. She remembered the first time, Bernie’s fierce grip holding them both upright against the bedroom door, clothes long since shed, Bernie’s hand frantic and ever so right between her legs. She had been holding onto her shoulders, and just as Bernie had bitten her neck, keeping her right on the edge without letting her have what she wanted, she had tried to hang on, tried to muffle the cry on her lips, let her hands slip along the muscles of Bernie’s back, feeling Bernie shiver when her nails had dug into the skin.

 

Bernie had paused and their eyes had met. Serena hadn’t felt the orgasm coming, had expected Bernie to tease her further but she had revelled in Serena losing control entirely, clawing at her back and gasping to try and counter the tsunami that had rippled through her. Bernie hadn’t stopped until Serena begged her to, and they had collapsed to the floor in a tangled mess, Bernie holding her close. How no one had deduced they had spent the night together the next day was beyond them.

 

Serena was brought back to the present when Bernie moaned lightly, all rosy cheeks and soft smile. There would be time to reminisce later, she had to make the most of the time they had together. She knew Bernie, knew what she liked, what made her sigh, moan, or cry out. She knew what she liked, how she liked it, and how willing she was to trust Serena and her more adventurous side. Not today, she decided. As much as she enjoyed playing with Bernie, and letting Bernie play with herself, and her, she wanted what little time they had to be nothing but skin on skin, tongues and fingers. They had relied on toys and their own hands for long enough.

 

She knew she was on the right path when Bernie held her closer, breathing out her name. Past a certain point it became ‘S’rena’, almost to the nickname she disliked, and yet she loved it. She loved how devoted and trusting Bernie was, and how it translated in the way she said her name.

 

She never altered Bernie’s nickname, it was all or nothing, either she cried it out, loud and thankful, or a simple ‘yes’ that she repeated like a mantra. She loved claiming her lover’s lips as she came, swallowing the long moans and the few sobs she had elicited. Not this time though. She would go slow, but steady, make her beg, make her spread her legs, admire her work, and hold her close.

 

“I’ve got you, darling.”

 

“For eternity.”


End file.
